


A quiet thank you at the end of a long day

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire decides to bring some art supplies to a protest after Enjolras suggests he help out, but doesn't expect anything in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A quiet thank you at the end of a long day

"I, um… I brought some supplies for signs… I mean, you probably already have signs - fuck, obviously you have signs, it’s a fucking protest - but I get a discount at the art store so I thought… it would help," Grantaire struggled to meet Enjolras’ eye, arms filled with poster paper, markers, paints, and an assortment of other things that he had picked up on his way to the small city square.

Enjolras gaped at him for a full five seconds, and then shook his head and regained his composure, “Jehan is in charge of posters. You can leave the supplies with him.”

Grantaire turned away, leaving Enjolras to stare after him as he disappeared into the crowd, unsaid words resting on the tip of his tongue. His heart fluttered in a way that surprised him, but he pushed thoughts of Grantaire to the back of his mind, doing his best to focus on the task at hand.  
—-  
"I would actually kiss you if you helped out tomorrow,” Enjolras had said, sitting at a table in the Musain, shuffling through papers and letters.  
Grantaire could not help but dwell on the words that had been so casually thrown at him the day before. It was a figure of speech. There was no conviction in what Enjolras had said, and he would be foolish to think anything of it. 

But still, he found himself hoping.

He sat off to the side on a low wall made of grey stone doodling in his sketchbook, his constant companion, occasionally pausing to glance up and survey the bustle of activity surrounding him. It was too easy to pick Enjolras out from among the crowd; his blond hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, but stray curls framed his face. His blue eyes were sharp and filled with a fiery passion; he weaved through the protestors with ease, lips curving into a smile as he spoke with friends and strangers alike. 

Watching him in action left Grantaire’s heart racing, and he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from him. He spent the afternoon trying to capture in charcoal the intensity of his gaze as he spoke, the way his hands moved about, driving his points home. He would pause for a breath, chest rising and falling as he stared into the crowd.

Shadows grew longer as the sun moved across the sky, and soon people were packing up, making their way home after a long, successful day. Grantaire closed his sketchbook, slipping it into his backpack, and looked up to see Enjolras walking towards him.

His gaze was soft, the intensity from earlier tucked away for another time. He smiled.

“You’ve been here all afternoon?” he asked, voice hoarse from hours upon hours of speaking. Grantaire’s breath caught in his throat as Enjolras sat next to him on the wall, only inches away.

“I… didn’t have anything better to do,” Grantaire replied. He glanced over at Enjolras to find bright eyes looking at him intently.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing everything, earlier,” Enjolras motioned to the leftover materials piled at Grantaire’s feet, “It means a lot.”

“You… you’re welcome. It wasn’t a big deal, it was on the way…” Grantaire felt as though he would break under that gaze, and his heart sank at the realization that Enjolras was oblivious to his feelings. He berated himself for being so hopeful, for expecting Enjolras to not be repulsed by him and-

“Do you want to go get coffee?” The words sent a shock through Grantaire, and he jolted free of his thoughts.

“Coffee? Now?” Surely his ears were playing tricks on him.

“We could go another time, if you’re busy. I…” Enjolras bit his lip, looking entirely unsure of himself.

“No, I’m not busy. I just didn’t realize…” He took a shaky breath, “Coffee would be nice.”

Enjolras was still gnawing on his lip, eyes moving from Grantaire, to his feet, and back to Grantaire again.

“Can I kiss you?”

It was Grantaire’s turn to gape.

“That’s a joke, right? Is this about what you said yesterday, because you really don’t have to go through with that,” his heart was thundering in his chest.

“I wasn’t joking. I wouldn’t joke about this,” he said, so quietly that Grantaire had to lean in to catch the last few words.

“You really want to,” it was more of a statement than a question. Blue eyes glanced up at him; the sweetness in them nearly broke Grantaire’s heart.

“More than anything.”

Grantaire licked his lips, searching Enjolras’ eyes for reassurance, and finding it. “Yes.” It was only a whisper, but it was enough. 

Enjolras leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a chaste kiss, Enjolras’ lips soft against Grantaire’s. A tentative hand reached up, fingers running through dark curls and coming to rest lightly against the side of his face.

“…Coffee?” Enjolras’ voice was low as he pulled away, resting their foreheads together, breath tickling Grantaire’s face.

Grantaire nodded, and he allowed Enjolras to pull him to his feet. Enjolras weaved their fingers together and raised his eyebrows, glancing down at their hands, a question. Grantaire smiled and brought their interlaced fingers to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of Enjolras’ hand.  
A rare, comfortable silence settled between them as they walked. Nothing could have wiped the smile off Grantaire’s face that night.


End file.
